Photograph
by Miss Momolo
Summary: "Hi," he heard someone said, "Kendall?" The vomit in her tongue tasted bitter as she ascended her eyes to the announcer. She swallowed immediately fearing if she did not she would really puke. "Are you all right?" A/N: not sure what I wanted to do. One-shot. Please tell me your opinion. Dedicated to my sister.


**Declaimer: I do not own KBTSDD or their characters. **

Half an hour. Thirty minutes. One thousand eight hundred seconds. And she can still feel the burn of his glare on the back of her head, taunting her to turn around and at the same time daring her not to. For his sake she doesn't. She guessed that if she had the guts she would, but lately that seemed to be causing problems. She lost her way this last year. Well, it all began when all their peers grew, dividing with each mislead false accusation that they have to part. Everyone found their respectful groups by taste of personality and everyone just seemed to forget about each other, avoiding eye contact or small memories reminding of the few years they spent within another's company. Kendall had lost hers when she was introduced to High School, it appeared as though she had lost the authority compared to the most popular girls and jocks of the facility. And like everyone else she was just part of the backdrop.

So, it came to no surprise to her to find one of those shadows from the past shade from across the lunch room outside school. More was her wonder since he was one of the 'cool kids'. Clearance. Or Kick, which had somehow, became his real name within the school doors. She always said that if she had the opportunity she would call him by his true correspondence just to see what he and the others would do. The occasion never presented itself and all she had was the memories of how he would easily boil just by the pronunciation of his name even before it was said.

She still couldn't understand it though. How had he made it to the top, when it was he who was on the bottom? He just changed from his old white jumpsuit to ripped jeans long-tight-sleeve shirts and sneakers, with the exception of his helmet which was the only clear indication that he had something to do with stunt. Here, everyone seemed to eat it up. But the only thing that didn't change was him and despite the rocky waters of misjudgment and the hollow echoes of rumors and the constant pressure he remained the same. Never changing. Still with his best friend Gunther who by association was introduce to the bitter world of popularity.

And she envied every single thing about him. She envied how everyone accepted him and gave their dirty backs to her. She hated how he was loved and she was outcasted. She hated how he was constantly surrounded by people and she was alone sitting close by the garbage cans smelling trash without even Ronaldo, since he moved last year from the country. She hated how he was given chances and she was given none. She hated how he changed appearances and she stayed the same. But what she most hated was how he was free to do what he pleased, not caring, while she suffered every time when she looked when she was not to, trapped in a cage that told her to close her eyes and press hands to her ears.

And now she hated how openly he stared at her and how he was not stopped…

She decided in a moment of desperation that maybe if she looked back, if she caved, he would too and he would stop and if he didn't she could just leave. Either way was fine, since she had no appetite with junk nearby.

She took in a breath and turned, her head pulsing with the reality… that she was correct. How she wished she was not!

His eyes were intense, he was looking at her directly in the eye and she had to catch her breath as she battled not to break this. Finally, some seconds later he turned his head sideways downcast, playing with the back hair from the nape of his neck, smiling sheepishly, talking to whoever was beside him. She wasn't aware of who it was, she was too embarrass to find out. Now she was sure she wanted to leave, she was an idiot. Such an idiot!

She was starting collect her thing when she heard someone disposing their food on the trash cans and the smell of rotten food assaulted her nose. She felt something rise in her throat. She was about to be sick…

"Hi," he heard someone said, "Kendall?"

The vomit in her tongue tasted bitter as she ascended her eyes to the announcer. She swallowed immediately fearing if she did not she would really puke.

"Are you all right?"

"C-Clearance," she wasn't even satisfied when she said his name, finding the circumstances unfair and without advantage, "what do you want?"

"You looked sick and I thought about checking up on you. Are you going to throw this away?" he pointed to the plastic tray of food.

She squinted at him, capturing the small courage she had in the pit of her stomach and forcing the words to come out. She wasn't going to lose more of what was left of her dignity. "Cut to whatever you came here to say, please, I don't have time to play charade."

Clearance sighed as he grabbed the tray and threw it away. He sat on the table next to her and she could feel more stares than she did before. With each moment that he said nothing, not knowing how to talk she started to panic. "What? Just tell me?"

He reached for the back of his neck again. "Kendall, ah… why do you have a picture of me on your bag?"

She felt her face drain and then it was on fire. But she couldn't move so she let the fire burn her face. "Wha… who said I did? I don't. There lies. If some of those noisy little-"

"I saw it. No one told me… I just wanted to know… why you have one? Or how did you got one?" he was looking up again, demanding almost.

"Wait? So, you were looking inside my bag now? Oh, what's wrong with you? Are you keeping taps on me now! Are you stalking me?"

That's when she stopped, just by seeing his face. His red, red face searching something at the table as she has her outburst. Then she swallowed her voice all the way as she heard whispers rising up.

"I was just passing by when I saw you looking through your bag and then-" he started to explain.

"So, you were looking at everything I do?"

"That's not the point!" he huffed and rolled his eyes at her. "I just wanted to know why…"

It was true; she had a photograph of him. Since she was young, when her days were filled with gold and sun and fun and with no care. It was contest he won and she saved the picture. She was right to save the picture, if someone told her that in a few years more she would have nothing she wouldn't believe them. It was nice to have something that reminds you of who you were, it makes you aware of all the things you have become, the road that you left behind. And he wanted to know why she had it… how dare he come to her just when he was reminded that she still alive? He was mistaken.

"Now?" she said. "You want to know now?"

"Well, I just find out today," he said.

Her blood boiled, as if she were an old pair of shoes that he just found and now was wanting to use. And even though she knew that he was talking about an old stupid photograph she couldn't help get angry thinking that he was talking about her, not a piece of paper. Because only now did he remember she was alive and it was all because of a picture.

"Well, good for you. I'm going." She gathered her things and was getting up.

"What about the picture?" he was fallowing her now.

She took some steps and brushed past him but then stopped. She took in air and whipped around. "I changed purse this morning and I found this old thing, thought I use it. Never bothered to clean it out," she lied and she knew it didn't make sense. It still didn't explain why she had it, did it?

She started walking again. She thought she was free as she slowly learned to bring function to her lungs until she heard him call out and then the same whispers of the school, eating new piece of gossip. "Never told me why you had a picture of me!"

She stood still, taking each movement with difficulty. The vomit was rising up again. Her face was scarlet, she knew, and her knees were buckling. And she wanted to run, so far away. But then the school would only flesh on her action, they would destroy what little she had left. She rather be invisible than visible. Her best game piece was pretending.

"I don't! I have no idea what you're talking about!" she started to walk away again.

She knew he didn't see her, but she was sure he did. Before and after. Before: when she was like a deer on headlights and after: as she smiles with each step, this words bouncing inside her head, hating that he never changed. "Well, I do!" (sorry if you missinterupt but it's that he toohas a picture of her)

The end


End file.
